After four miscarriages and two rounds of IVF, Bessie, is facing another Christmas without the baby she longs for. She shares the Christmas ritual that keeps her hope alive, why the festive season can be so difficult after baby loss, what people can do to support bereaved parents and how support from Sands has made a difference in helping her hold onto hope. 

"Every year, when my husband and I decorate the Christmas tree, I wrap a baby blanket and place it underneath. There's an old wives' tale that says if you put a wrapped blanket under the tree, you'll have a baby by next Christmas. We have four blankets now. Every year, when we unpack the decorations, they're still there. 

Christmas has always been my favourite time of year. I grew up in a big family, with four siblings so for me the magic of Christmas has always been built around family traditions and being together. When doctors told my husband and me it was going to be difficult to have a family of our own, I began measuring my life by the hope that I’d have a baby by next Christmas. Every year I tell myself maybe by next year. Then another Christmas arrives and we’re still waiting, leaving me wondering if it’s ever going to happen for us. 

Now I find Christmas so hard because I dream about putting out cookies for Santa or a Christmas morning with a child sitting by the tree opening presents. It’s moments like that which I long for most and I can’t wait until those days come for us. 

The older I’ve got and the more miscarriages and rounds of IVF we’ve been through the sadder and lonelier I’ve felt. Things feel harder the more miscarriages I've had as there’s more uncertainty about whether our life will end up with a living child. That’s why it’s important for me to share my story because I know so many other women that feel exactly the same as I do from talking with others. 

Each loss I’ve had isn’t just the loss of a baby. It’s the loss of a future and life that I should have had. The loss of the person that I was before. My whole life has changed each time I’ve had a loss, as when you lose a baby, you lose part of your soul. 

All four of my babies were possibilities of different paths and futures and I often wonder what tiny little humans they might have become. I grieve birthdays we won’t celebrate, family traditions we never had the chance to start, and never being able to hold the baby I’ve longed for. That’s why miscarriage is so much more complex than many people realise. 

After losing my babies I lost myself completely, I lost part of my purpose and I felt like a failure, and it was really hard to sit with that. I don't think people always understand that even though you know it's not your fault it still feels like it is because it's your body that didn't do what it was supposed to. 

Christmas looks very different for us now, and the sadness that our children aren’t here with us has changed the way we celebrate. 

We don’t see as many people or celebrate with family in the same way we once did. We used to host a Boxing Day buffet with our family and my nephews each year, but now the sadness is just too much for me so this year it’ll be just me and my husband together. That gives us space to feel whatever we’re feeling. If I spend the entire day crying, which is what I did last year, he doesn't expect me to put on a brave face. 

I find it so hard to see other people happy with their children and their families at this time of year, and I feel so selfish for feeling like that because I love them and I love their children as if they were mine, but it's so hard knowing that I don't have that myself. 

Something that helps me though is writing a letter to myself, to my babies that would have been and to the baby we still hope might join us in the future each Christmas. It's a snapshot of our year and a way of carrying them with me. I actually saw the idea of letter writing within the Sands online community. I also light a lot of candles, and I always have candles lit for my babies. 

Baby loss can feel incredibly lonely, but Sands helped me when I had no idea how I could keep going. 

I'd been to my GP multiple times and said my mental health was at rock bottom; I honestly had no idea how I could move forward or keep going, but after one of my losses, I rang the Sands helpline and said” I’m lost”. The person on the other end listened without judgement and told me it was okay to feel exactly how I felt. That was the first time someone had said that. I finally felt heard and it changed everything. 

Later, I joined the Sands online community and found other people who understood the pain of pregnancy and baby loss, but who were somehow still finding ways to move forward and hold onto hope. That helped me believe I could too. 

The support from the online community finally made me feel that my loss wasn’t the be all and end all of my life, because that's how I truly felt at that point. I didn't know how I was going to recover or how to move forward, but this community of people had felt the same sort of grief too, and they just got it. I’d pop a message onto the group to say I'm having a crap day, it's my due date or I've just had some really crappy news from a GP or a practitioner and straight away people were there for me, saying things like I’m really sorry that you're having this day. I get it, we’re here to talk - people understood. 

Finding people that truly understand the journey I’m going through has given me hope and I genuinely don't think I would be where I am today without the support of Sands. 

The Sands community has changed everything for me. I've managed to advocate for myself in my medical life and find out more about what sort of testing I can access and what medical care I'm entitled to. 

I’ve also been to online Zoom meetings with Sands Cornwall. I felt so welcome immediately. The day of the meeting, I’d honestly had the worst week, but I was at the meeting for two hours and I felt instantly better talking to people who got it. It helped change my week. My husband had been out and when he came back, I told him I felt like a new person again. 

Sands support is so varied, and I find it really helpful that you can access it from your sofa and from your phone. I've done all of the traditional types of therapy, but Sands has given me the support that I needed. 

I really hope other people reading know that Sands can help them in ways that they’d probably not even thought about. 

In the Sands community, you're made to feel that everything that you’ve been through is valid and that’s so important. You’re heard and accepted, and you’ll get support regardless of what your journey has looked like. 

When I first found Sands, I wish I had known then, when I was so lost in depression and honestly thought things were never going to get better, that I was never going to feel happy again, that I was never going to laugh or enjoy things again, that it does get better. It did for me because of Sands support, whether it was through talking to people in the online community, from the helpline phone call or the constant resources and guidance that Sands share. 

I wish I could go back to that version of me and tell her it's okay, you'll be okay, and I hope if anyone reading is where I was, that they take hope for where I am now. 

What I've realised is that pregnancy and baby loss touches far more people than most of us realise. 

Sands has probably supported people you've sat next to at work, stood behind in a supermarket queue, or friends and family who have never spoken about their loss. Having that support is a fundamental lifeline for so many people. It was for me. 

All I’ve ever wanted is a child and a family. I still have so much love to give and despite everything we’ve been through, I haven’t lost hope that maybe I will become a mum one day. So, this Christmas, there will be another blanket wrapped beneath our tree. And maybe, just maybe, next year will finally be our turn.” 

Bessie’s advice on how you can support bereaved parents at Christmas 

Include us, even if we can't come 

“The biggest thing you can do is invite us. We want to be included. What hurts is being forgotten. At the same time, don't judge us if we say no or that we can’t face doing something. Sometimes our grief is too heavy.” 

Remember our babies

 “Talk about our babies. They're still our children and still part of our family and we want to talk about them. If you know their name, say it. If you're writing a Christmas card, include them.” 

Recognise that Christmas isn't joyful for everyone 

“Christmas can be wonderful for many people, but for bereaved parents it can be a painful reminder of what we've lost or what we're still longing for. Don’t pressure people to be happy, excited or to feel a certain way during the festive season. A little sensitivity goes a long way.”